If Narcissus had a daughter
She wouldn't look anything like his reflection
So he would fall out of love with her.
If her body was not that of the flower which he became
Thin, wispy, conventional
He would spit her out of his venomous mouth
She would become a drop in a bucket
Forget how to love herself
And expect someone to do it better
She will look into the eyes of her lover
See her father and approve
Because she does not know how to love differently
He will not teach her to accept herself
But rather push her into the pond
So he can be above her
Watch carefully, darling
Trauma is the only thing you ever knew
Why would you expect anything else?
When I watched my father become a flower
Wilted over the water
I wondered if he had always been that way
I wanted to rip the eggshells out of my imperfect feet
As I crushed them and cut myself
Instead of avoiding them altogether
For far too long
They have become a part of me
So damaged and frail
No wonder I hold them close to my chest.
My heart is no longer an eggshell
It is a diamond
Not easily cracked again
But I still love the poison of your lips
The way your hand causes tremors through my skin
As I break the surface of the water
Earthquake, dear
You give me earthquakes
After all,
If all I know is trauma
How could I expect anything else?

I read my body like a road map
My ******* become mountains
My hips are flowing bodies of water
Here's to the not-so-lean lines
That tell me where the highways are
The railroad is the predominant form of transportation
In the quaint little town I depict on my skin
Train tracks cover inch by inch of me
From wrist to chest to thigh
Smothered in scars
That tell you where I've been
And where I hope to move away from.
Every good map has a starting point
For me, that was ****** abuse
Was verbal aggression
Was gas lighting
Then the extra distance in the middle
Was suicidal thoughts
Was bulimia
Was starting therapy
Was never being good enough for anyone
I'm not quite to where I want to be yet
But I'm progressing to the city of
I am good enough for me
Now I worship these train tracks
No more fresh blood
But I can kiss the scars
I find myself in love with my existence
Rather than ashamed of my past
I will handle my map like ancient scrolls
Like a golden altar
Not settling for any silly lover
Who does not exalt this sacred land, this body
And to love where I am going,
You must honor each and every place
I have been.

It is really easy
To fall apart at the seams.
Have every stitch gradually come undone
Each piece of fabric falls out of place accordingly
It takes only the simplest of minds
To see the upholstery when its edges start to fray.
But you, darling, you were seamless
I never knew your face would soon crack
Before you became part of the earth's dense matter
The silk of your skin had been ripped apart from the inside out
Fresh blood stains the linen
They sew you back together
In textile the shape of a coffin
They get the measurements exactly right, love
The width of your hips
The length, from the first particle of a brown strand of your mop of hair
To the last atom of your toenail
I never thought depression would look this fashionable
If anyone could bring it back in style
It would be you
I never meant to leave you
Had I seen your unraveling
I would have taken my needle and thimble
Woven you into the stitch of my pocket
Taken you to my home
Though you remain in dreams
When the night is over
You must go back to your home
Home to the ground in which each nymph attends
To the beauty of your life
Because even in death
You are seamless, my dear
You are perfect
You are gone.

When he writes you saying he's in recovery
You will want to correct him.
Every particle of your skin and bones
Will scream so loudly
That no one can hear it.
When he says he has not cut, done drugs or tried to off himself in three months
Your mind will become a tornado
At the thought of his mental illness being used as an excuse.
When the word sorry finally jumps off the page
It will dive directly down your throat
Blocking your airway
Because apologies don't cover it.
Apologies will never stop strangling me
Because they didn't stop the sleepless nights
The trigger
The relapse.
Apologies will barrel down my windpipe
Until I have nothing left to say
They steal the words from me
Like you did
When your hands wondered
And your tormenting persisted
What was I supposed to say
When I couldn't get a word in?
What was I supposed to say
When the only word I knew
(Stop)
Seemed to move through you like water
Ebbing and flowing, as you relished in it.
You didn't **** me
I don't know why that matters
As if your puncturing the wall protecting my core
Would have made my story more believable
Maybe they would have cared then.
I told you this
How I do not care how sorry you are
And you told me you do not care about my opinion.
Did you just want me to remember you?
Well, darling, my name is survivor
Taste it like a bitter shot of whiskey
Wear it like a scar bound to your chest
Because I have removed you
From mine.

Hello, old friend
I am in a haunted house
Banging on the ceiling
Breaking glass walls that suffocate me
The shards pierce me beautifully
An elegant ribbon of blood tangles around my body
Like a kitten, I watch as I unravel
Unable to escape as you watch me bleed out.

Different night, same dream again
I want to know if someone can deliver me
Bitter venom that can save my sanity
The same principle that if you **** on a jellyfish sting
It hurts less
Desperate times call for desperate poison and muck
Sinking.
Baby, could that be your kiss?

I wake up, and remember
They think I might have Stockholm Syndrome
For everyone that abused me, it seems
I have the utmost respect for
And I love them every day with all of my being.

The waves of my love will not run dry
Eleven years after being molested
I still draw your name on my tongue
Sing you rather than spit you
"Alan"
Sweet harmony
"Alan"
You have a girlfriend now
And she looks an awful lot like me
At least that's what I have discovered by stalking your Facebook page
Was I that good that you modeled her after me?
Do you even remember?

You visit me in my dreams
My own pillow jumps from my bed to smother my face
I leave purple sticky drool marks on my arm
A bruise for every time I am in that glass house
I've seen you take me captive
I've seen you hold me in every position imaginable
I've seen you have a baby girl
And her eyes look just like yours
All from a distance
But none of its real
This is no part of my molecular makeup
As my atoms do not collide with yours
I am a fish, swimming through air
I cannot breathe because I am being taught how to drown elegantly
Which begs the question:
Did it ever really happen at all?
Did I ever really happen at all?

Sincerely, me
The same one whose face may have traveled below your belt
Who you may have violated
I wish you had strangled me with that belt at that very moment

PS: I swear I won't be angry, darling
Just please tell me
What I need to know to sleep soundly again
After all,
You are the only one who remembers
Correctly.

Little girl, stop shaking
Your wounds are not the kind that will heal in time
You have predator in your blood
And abuser in your skin
Your antibodies cannot save you
When your body wages war against itself
The ****, it will not clot the way it is supposed to
As you grow older, the features come in
Your eyes look more and more
Like your Pop Pop's
Your face looks more and more
Like your father's
Your mouth tastes more and more
Like your older cousin's
After all, you would know
What his skin tastes like
You try to scrub it off
Causing the wound to reopen
Scrape the scab away
But you, beautiful girl
You are not your bloodline, your birthright
You are not destined to be angry and cold
Your sentence is not the dungeon
Is not death
Intelligent woman
You will hold in your hand the power of ten thousand men
You will wear the teeth from your ******* relative
Like pearls around your neck
You will paint your nails with the blood of your toxic family
Your past will not mute your scream
Your childhood will not filter your radiance
You, warrior, will rise up to be queen.

My second semester of college
My sociology professor tells us not to qualify our input
Because women are socialized to be sorry.
My voice has been used against me
Taught the only things it is good for
Is saying "yes" and "I apologize"
We are taught to cater to a man's state of being
And his state in general
Why are we called patriots?
Because our existence contributes to the patriarchy.
Our very lives are designed to entertain the male psyche
We are the pits of water for the buffalo to come to
Indulge in
Drain of our substance for his convenience.
We become too weak to fight
As "meninists" quote the Bible
Saying we are not meant to be equal
But when their seventh grade knowledge of quack biology
Is proved to be bad science time and time again
Will anyone fight to liberate us?
My second semester of college
My New Testament professor
Tells us the biblical interpretation of gender inequality
Is bad reading.
What if God is woman?
Would this deity have her body torn from the towers of heaven
Would she be called a ***** for smiting the world
With a great flood?
If she is woman
There are many more floods to come.
We eat the body of Christ at communion
If God is woman
Her body will be eaten by vultures every day.
We stand, we recite as we have been so kindly instructed
"This is my body
Given for you."